


Invincible Like I've Never Been

by the_parallax_of_rain



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, F/M, Missing Scenes, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_parallax_of_rain/pseuds/the_parallax_of_rain
Summary: She watches them talk, mesmerized by the way Jimmy’s hands weave through the air and by the inflection of his voice, dipping in and out of song like the meadowlarks she used to hear through the glimmering dawn, in the vast fields back home. And then she wonders when she will begin to think of Albuquerque as home.Kim and Jimmy and the moments in-between.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler, Past Kim Wexler/Original Female Character
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	Invincible Like I've Never Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Type One: The Reformer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be based around the nine enneagram types, one chapter for each type. But this is moreso a challenge for myself, so feel free to read it without this interpretation if you’d prefer! 
> 
> There’s also an album, “Atlas: Enneagram” by Sleeping At Last, that I’ll be referencing throughout as well. The lyrics are so lovely, please give it a listen if you’re interested!

_The list goes on forever_

_Of all the ways I could be better_

\- “One” by Sleeping At Last

* * *

It’s when the clicking of the pen stops, and the artificially-chilled breakroom air is shattered by an emphatic “ _Jesus_ , Kim, this stuff is just incompatible with my brain or something!”, that she knows she should step in. Sweeping her highlighters off to the side into a neat pile, Kim closes her textbook carefully so as not to disturb the arsenal of Post-Its bristling from its pages, and briskly makes her way around the table to where Jimmy sits, with his face buried in his hands, glaring down at the pages of notes laid out before him. Through the darkness of the room, interrupted only by the lamp at the center of the table throwing ghostly light over his figure, she can practically see the curse words ready on his tongue, as apparent as if he had exhaled them into cold winter air. 

She leans down to skim her finger over his notes, feeling the slight indentations of the letters from when he had pressed too hard with his pen. “Where are you at right now?” 

“In Hell, that’s where,” Jimmy groans dramatically, sitting up straight and letting his hands fall from his face. He glances over at the clock on the wall. “Jeez, it’s already half past nine. You’d think the guys at PNM would’ve gotten up off their asses and fixed things by now.” He raps his knuckles against the slightly sputtering lamp. “I mean, come on.”

“Jimmy, one thing has nothing to do with the other,” she reminds him. Untimely power outage or not, it wouldn’t change the fact that they were both locked in here because _someone_ had dropped the spare set of keys down the elevator shaft on his way back from buying them dinner, or that _someone_ was about 12 hours away from flunking his very first exam in law school. When Jimmy had reappeared before the glass doors to the breakroom, face cracked into a sheepish grin (“Hey, Kim, you wouldn’t believe the things I went through in the past hour just to get this crappy takeout!”), she had pulled him back inside with resigned amusement. It made sense, really, that the universe would decide to run a litmus test on how far Jimmy McGill could go and still be forgiven by her. As if it knew of the connection budding between them that so far, neither of them had acted upon.

“Right, right, sorry. You know, it’s just that working in almost total darkness really kills the mood when you’re trying to learn about” - he squints down at the paper, where lines of writing had begun to devolve into sleep-muddled scribbles - “God, what did I even write here?” 

She studies the way his mouth is compressed into a thin line, and the casual flop of hair over his forehead, almost long enough to cover his right eye. 

“It _can_ be frustrating, I know,” Kim says carefully. “I felt the same way when I first started out.” 

A nervous laugh escapes him. “Yeah well, you got past it, didn’t you? I don’t think I’m ever gonna get this.” 

They lapse into silence. Without the humming of the fluorescent lights overhead to fill the space, the only sounds in the breakroom come from the water bubbling sluggishly in the corner fountain. It reminds Kim of the day that Jimmy had first told her he wanted to study the law. 

It had been one of those rare days when the rain came out of nowhere, and Kim found herself in the stairwell next to the giant glass window, leaning against the railing and gazing out upon the drowning landscape. The sky was dark grey and appeared flat, uncaring. 

She jumped a little at Jimmy’s loud greeting. “Hey Kim! How’s it goin’?” He appeared beside her, holding a mug filled with coffee and a binder that looked ready to cough up its contents all over the floor. “I was just on my way to deliver this upstairs,” he clarified. “But now that I’ve run _into_ you - quite serendipitously, I might add - there’s something I wanted to run _by_ you. Heh.” 

“Shoot,” Kim replied, turning to look back out at the dreary outdoors, watching the rainwater run in small rivulets down the window as smaller beads combined to form larger ones until they eventually pooled at the bottom, somewhere out of sight. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while and, well, I know how hard you work, taking night classes while working in the mailroom at the same time. It’s actually inspired me to kinda think...maybe I could do something similar.” 

“Jimmy, what are you saying?” She turned to face him, trying to hide the surprise in her voice. 

“I was thinking maybe I could also...you know, go to law school and…” He shuffled his feet as if embarrassed. “Well, I’ve been in the law library for a couple hours here and there, looking through some books and I think I can do it.” 

She gazed up into his eyes, wide and eager for validation. “That’s great, Jimmy! Have you thought about which schools you’d want to apply to yet?”

“Not really...I was actually hoping maybe you could help me figure that stuff out.” 

They would have to take a step back and make a plan first, Kim thought. They’d need to make sure that Jimmy had all the college credits he needed before setting up a study schedule for the LSAT. Then there was the issue of applying to law school itself. And he would eventually have to find a way to balance working in the mailroom at the same time as crunching through those textbooks.

She remembered how daunted she had felt. 

“I have some old study books that you can borrow for the LSAT. And later we can talk strategy about law school. That sound good?” Briskly, she extended her offer of help, disguised as a business proposal.

Jimmy bounced up and down with excitement. “Jesus! Yeah, that’s - that’s wonderful! Wow. For a minute there, I didn’t know how you’d react.” 

“Jimmy, you know I have your back on stuff like this.” She shifted her position against the railing. “Did you tell anyone else about this yet? Your brother?” 

“God no. He’s busy enough as it is without worrying about this. Plus, I want to surprise him.” 

“Oh man, that’ll be a sight to see.” 

‘Yeah, wouldn’t it?” Jimmy said with another laugh. But she could tell there was something else on his mind. And if he kept fidgeting any longer, the coffee would definitely spill. 

“What else are you thinking about?” she asked. 

Sure enough, the coffee mug in Jimmy’s hand tipped dangerously off to the side as he gestured with both arms. Kim resisted the urge to lean over and rebalance it. “Well, I mean, I’m not the best with book learning. I was hoping that you could - ” 

“Sure,” Kim said. “You got it.” 

He looked startled by her quick response. “Well, that’s...thank you so much, Kim, but I know you don’t like it when people get ideas. You know, about us.” 

She tapped her fingers on the railing slightly, listening to the hollow metal echo, and ignored the sudden swooping sensation that befell her upon hearing those words. “Jimmy, it’s just studying together. Friends do that all the time.” 

“Oh. Right! Friends, that’s...fantastic. You know what, I’m just gonna finish this” - he pointed upstairs with his binder-holding hand - “and we’ll talk later?” 

She hadn’t given him a response at the time other than a quick nod, and she certainly hadn’t allowed him to see the small smile curling across her lips once he walked away to finish his delivery. 

“You still want to do this, right?” She runs her fingers along the edge of the page he’s scrutinizing, inches away from where his arm rests against the cold wood of the table. “Pass the bar and become a lawyer?” 

Jimmy releases a long-suffering sigh, then straightens up. “Yeah, I do. I really do.” 

She resists the urge to lay her hand on his. “Okay, Jimmy. I’ll be right over there if you need me.” 

* * *

Whenever the mornings in Albuquerque arrive warm and blustery, and the grass dries up in the heat of the sun, Kim is thrown back to her childhood days. Growing up, she had conditioned herself to remain a certain distance from other people, as a survival tactic. And then she had met Hayley in the high school history class they shared. Hayley, with short brown hair that curled at the ends and a quick splash of freckles across her nose and a bright, mischievous smile. Hayley, who had lent her money to take the SAT, and who had opened up her own house to Kim when Kim’s mother was too drunk to legally be alive.

 _What do you think you’ll do after high school, Kim?_ Hayley had asked once, as they laid next to each other in the prickly grass, wet clothes sticking to their skin. The heat of the afternoon had driven them to go swimming in the pond on the outskirts of the farm where Hayley and her parents lived, miles away from the cramped single-room apartment that Kim and her mom shared, deep within the town’s center. Kim had ended up wading into the water with her skirt hiked up so as to avoid getting her school uniform wet, laughing as Hayley surfaced on the far side of the pond and threatened to pull her under if she didn’t join her fast enough. 

Kim broke eye contact with her friend, and turned her head to gaze up at the sky, brilliant orange and purple hues blending with the backdrop of blue. She had thought long and hard about what she might want to do, and where she might want to go. She thought about trading yellow fields for concrete, about buildings with glass windows and polished floors, about neat neighborhoods packed full of beaming, lovely, complete families. Back then, places like Albuquerque only existed as a fever dream, simmering on the horizon way out of her reach. 

_Maybe college, somewhere far from here, where I can find a good job helping people in the future,_ Kim replied truthfully. 

Hayley’s light laugh slipped through the early evening air and evaporated like dew into the summer heat. Her hand brushed against Kim’s, their fingers snagging in the dry grass. _Kimberly Wexler, whoever told you to dream so big?_

 _You could come with me,_ Kim argued. _Expand your horizons._

Hayley hummed, as if considering her offer. _I don’t think I’d ever leave this place._ She flipped over onto her stomach, and glanced at Kim. Her eyes were sympathetic. _But there’s not much for you here, is there?_

Kim had wanted to protest, but there was no point refuting it. She took Hayley’s hand, tracing over her thumb with her own. _I just want something different,_ she breathed.

Hayley threw her a tender glance that was still somehow haughty. _Bet you’re gonna miss me when you go._

Her mom had vehemently disapproved of the two of them spending so much time together, convinced that Kim was growing apart from her thanks to “that wild farm girl”. As if she hadn’t done enough of the driving away herself. 

And in the end, nothing of consequence had ever truly happened between them, and Kim doesn’t know if she’s still disappointed about it or not. She could only remember doodling in her yearbook underneath Hayley’s note - which she had ended with a quick dash followed by the single letter H. Somehow, Kim had caught herself tracing out the name _Hayley Wexler,_ and she regretted using a pen because she had wanted to erase it immediately after. It didn’t matter anyway. She hadn’t packed the yearbook when she whisked herself off to New Mexico chasing the promise of success, following a tailwind that promised something brighter. Or maybe, some part of her simply wanted to flee.

And Hayley had stayed behind. Just like everyone else in that small town with the winters that alternate between somnolent and violent, and the summers that stick to your skin like an anguished lover, with sand-gold clouds that boil across sprawling grey-blue skies, heralding storms. It’s been years since the two of them had last corresponded, and Kim’s last letter to Hayley had gone unanswered. 

And now, she only thinks of that town when she enters the conference room next to Howard’s office and glances over at the gigantic USA map hanging on the far wall. Someone has tacked pins into each major city where they’ve represented clients, and surprisingly, there are more pins scattered across the center of the US than she expected. Each time her gaze drifts toward the Midwest, narrows in on that tiny black dot representing the town that squeezed the air out of her lungs. 

One time, years ago, Chuck McGill had made a rare visit down to the mailroom late at night when Kim was alone, her only company being the textbooks propped open in front of her, and he had attempted to connect with her over common ground. It had been after the Isaacson case, after she had told him about her alternative approach. “I was impressed with what you said earlier, Ms. Wexler. Where did you say you were from again?” he had asked her, standing stiffly several feet away from her table. 

She hesitated, only briefly. “Oh, you wouldn’t know it,” she replied. “It’s a small town near the Kansas-Nebraska border.” And then she suddenly realized that any reservations about coughing up her past might be interpreted as rude. She hastily added, “If you’ve ever read anything by Willa Cather, she’s from there.” 

“Oh, I see,” Mr. McGill had responded, with a smile that stretched unnaturally across his face. She got the feeling that he hadn’t offered one in quite some time. “And yes, I have read some of her works. We do tend to romanticize the Midwest quite a bit, don’t we?” 

“Yes, I suppose we do,” Kim replied, with her own smile that she hoped looked genuine. 

Mr. McGill continued with a strangely wistful tone. “Well, I’m sure it must have been nice to live in a town made immortal by literature. It’s not a chance that everyone gets. In fact, I might swing by and visit someday just to see if the plains of Nebraska are as beautiful as the books depict them to be.” 

_Yes,_ she wanted to say, an emotion she can’t name welling up inside of her like bitter tea. _Yes, they are, and sometimes I open up the copy of My Ántonia in the library - the one with coffee stains on the front cover - to remind myself what the tourists are coming for. And then I remember the sprawling farms and dusty streets downtown lined with red brick buildings and sunsets the color of fire and wine. And mothers who neglect their children and love the bottle instead, and girls who don’t know what to do about other girls._

And even now, whenever a similar line of questioning comes up, whether from a law professor commending her brilliant argument in class or a well-meaning colleague in the mailroom asking about her family, she has to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind, where they curl up inside the file labeled _Red Cloud, Nebraska_ , the file she resolves to leave alone, for all the good it does her. It sits there collecting dust, right next to _childhood_ and _Mom_ and _what could have been if only you had more courage._

* * *

The minute hand on the clock creaks forward steadily. 9:45 PM...10:00 PM...10:15 PM. Once in a while, she glances over to watch Jimmy’s head bob up and down slightly as he skims over his notes. Sometimes, he punctuates his movements with a quick jab at the lantern, as it weakly flickers on and off. 

Shortly after he had been hired, Jimmy quickly became a legend in the mailroom, regaling the others with tales of his misadventures back in Cicero. She heard endless stories about him and his friend Marco wreaking havoc “back in the day”. She had wanted to ask for proof, for any evidence. She had wanted to cross-examine him on the finest of details, to ascertain the truth in his grandiose statements. 

One time, as they leaned against the wall of the parking garage, watching the cars line up to drive off, she had said, “Jimmy, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you come out here in the first place? It sounds like you really liked being in Cicero.” 

“Oh, the place certainly has a certain charm to it,” he replied, taking a fresh cigarette from his pack and lighting it. He offered her one as well, which she accepted. “But, you know, sometimes you just need a change.” 

“A change,” she repeated, lighting her cigarette as well. 

Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah. Well, to be perfectly clear, a _mandatory_ change. Like, a you’re-gonna-stay-here-in-Cook-County-Jail-unless-you-can-turn-your-life-around type of change.” 

“Oh.” Kim blew smoke out into the air and watched the tendrils curl away from her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah, well, what can you do. If it weren’t for Chuck, I wouldn’t even have this job or a place to live, so I’m just grateful for that.” They fell silent for a minute, before Jimmy piped up, “So, what about you? I mean, you look like you fit right in here. Like, you belong up there with Chuck and the rest.” 

“I’m not from here, if you would believe it,” Kim said. “I’m from the Midwest as well.” After a moment, she added, “I was also looking for something new.” 

“Huh. Two Midwesterners, blown here by the winds of change.” Jimmy took a drag from his cigarette, then exhaled. The smoke, nearly blue against the darkness of the parking garage, swirled into the air before him. 

She returned to her apartment that night and, over a plate of few-days-old leftovers, scoured the Internet for information on _Cicero, Illinois._ She read about the 1950s race riots, about the slow turnover of shops and eateries along South Laramie Avenue. Through an article in the Chicago Tribune, she learned about the demolition of the Hawthorne Works factory that saw the complex laced with dynamite and finally taken down after years of abandonment. She glanced at images of the town that showed buildings misted with early morning smog, compact and resilient along the endlessly straight roads. And for some reason she found herself missing a place she had never even been to before. 

Then one day, Jimmy had asked “Hey, do you think you could help me understand this case a bit better?” and she had said “Sure, but give me a sec, I just have to finish printing this” and the rest, as they say, is history.

She bites back a smile upon seeing that small tuft of hair sticking out over his right ear. It’s something she had noticed earlier this week when he proudly showed off his new haircut to everyone else in the mailroom. She had decided to keep it to herself. Not that Jimmy would’ve minded, probably. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have cared if she roasted him in front of the partners. He’d probably just smirk and say something like “Well, I will _always_ defer to the lady’s opinion!” 

During the day, she’s a still pool of water against his turbulent waves. When they pass by each other delivering packages on the fourth floor, she sees him striking up lively conversations with the associates, leaning against the side of their cubicles. When they’re assembling binders for upcoming cases, she can hear him chattering away with Ernie or Burt, hidden behind stacks of paper that threaten to blow away with one misplaced laugh. 

And then during the evenings, when they’re alone, he becomes someone else. Someone who asks how her day went as he pulls a cigarette from her pack without needing permission. Someone who shares and can actually keep up with her wit and sense of humor. Someone who smiles just for her. 

But she isn’t foolish. She tells herself that the man flirts with everyone. Joking is his love language. And plus, doesn’t she know better? Doesn’t she know the dangers of getting too close - of shattered glass and being locked outside in the snow and watching wine spilling like blood onto the kitchen tiles? 

For so long she has excelled at keeping herself within the gray. She’s always been good at standing waist-deep in still water, gazing towards the opposite bank where the golden reflections of the grass ripple against the pond’s glassy surface. Watching as the ripples slowly emanate outwards until they vanish, and it’s like nothing had changed and nothing ever would. 

Without thinking, Kim leans over the table, wanting to tuck the misbehaving tuft of hair back into place behind Jimmy’s ear. 

And then the lights overhead blaze on, washing out the feeble lamplight and nearly blinding her with their fluorescent glow. At the same time, a startingly loud knock comes from the glass doors - Jimmy’s head snaps up from his papers violently and Kim retracts her hand so fast that she slams her elbow against the back of the chair. An electric jolt arcs down her arm, and she tries to hide her wince as Jimmy swipes a hand over his eyes. She can instantly see the moment he switches to his upbeat day-self again, as he chuckles, “Well, let there be light!”

Kim looks over to see the janitor standing at the door, holding up the keys. “You kids ready to get out now?” 

Jimmy leaps to his feet, practically vaults over the edge of the table and rushes to the door. “God, you’re a lifesaver, Gesualdo. Hey, I haven’t forgotten about that drink I owe you! When are you free?” 

She watches them talk, mesmerized by the way Jimmy’s hands weave through the air and by the inflection of his voice, dipping in and out of song like the meadowlarks she used to hear through the glimmering dawn, in the vast fields back home. And then she wonders when she will begin to think of Albuquerque as home. 

The custodian glances over at her as Jimmy launches on. He seems tired. Perhaps he doesn’t want to go out tonight like Jimmy is suggesting. Perhaps he wants to say _Jimmy, man, you’re great but I gotta get home to the wife and kids...yeah, I mean, I know that bar’s on the way back but…_

Kim wonders if she should rescue him. But she can’t bear to put a stop to Jimmy’s enthusiasm, not now. She gives Gesualdo - was that his name? - a half-hearted smile, an apology. Jimmy turns back towards her, mismatched sideburns and all, and the sight is so oddly endearing. She manages to turn her laugh into a cough as he flaps his arms enthusiastically in her direction. “Kim, we’re heading over to that new place - Anodyne - for a couple rounds. Wanna join us?” 

Once upon a time, she would have imagined Jimmy on the stand, as she paces in front of him. She would have imagined crossing him, and exposing all the holes she can find in his proposal. _But Mr. McGill, didn’t you say that you have an exam the next morning? Right, and you mentioned that you hadn’t done any review in the days leading up to the exam, didn’t you? Furthermore, Mr. McGill, weren’t you the person who mentioned that spending too much time together would lead people to, and I quote, ‘get ideas, you know, about us’?” What’s your response to that?_

Now, all she can come up with is “I don’t know, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy tilts his head slightly to one side. “C’mon, Kim. It’ll be a nice break! I mean, Jesus” - he spreads his arms out - “you’ve been stuck in this office hellscape for, what, almost sixteen hours now?” 

He darts his gaze towards the table. “Hey, tell you what, it would be better if I had someone there to quiz me, right? Keep me accountable? I mean, Gesualdo here sure wouldn’t feel like doing that, right buddy?” 

He pats the janitor on the shoulder, who replies with a bemused “I’ll just get a head start on you youngsters then” before ambling out the doorway and heading towards the parking lot. 

Jimmy’s voice bubbles with excitement, and it’s hard to believe he had been despairing about his studies just several minutes prior. He snatches up his notes from the table, and the papers crunch slightly in his grasp. “So, what do you say Kim?” 

She examines him closely, with his striped and slightly baggy short-sleeved shirt, with his tie knotted in a way that suggests he had learned five minutes before coming in for his first day of work and then never tried to refine it. She pictures his hands, either waving around wildly in the air and accompanied by that explosive laugh, or gently brushing against her arm as he walks her to her car - there’s no in-between, really - and she wonders how she’s going to play the cards that she’s been dealt. 

* * *

Despite the iron self-control that Jimmy had touted as they sat down at the bar (“Gotta study, am I right?”), not thirty minutes passes before he is ordering his second, then his third drink. He asks Kim if she wants anything, but she declines politely, exchanging a humorous glance with the janitor seated next to her, who looks extremely out of his element and is probably wishing anyone else but him had been sent to retrieve the keys from the elevator shaft. They spend the next hour talking casually, and Kim occasionally thinks about bringing up the fact that Jimmy’s definitely going to fail his exam if they keep going at this rate. But something keeps her mouth shut. 

At closing time, Kim pays for the tab. After she and Gesualdo manage to wrangle a drunk Jimmy into her car, dragging him away from some stranger’s golden retriever that he had been trying to pet (“it’s a dog-friendly bar for a reason, guys!”), she drives back to HHM to drop off the janitor. He thanks her for coming, and gives Jimmy a quick pat on the arm before heading off to his own vehicle. Jimmy hollers after him, “Till next time, buddy!” and it’s like a foghorn blasting through the velvet night. Biting down her smile, Kim then makes the short drive to the apartment complex where Jimmy is currently staying. 

“Kim, let me take you home,” Jimmy nobly offers, even as she pushes him onto his own bed. 

“Jimmy, we’re already at your place. Remember? I drove you back,” she explains patiently, pulling the covers back. 

He squints around at his surroundings, as if just now noticing they look familiar. “Oh yeah. It’s a nice place, isn’t it? Real nice, even though the lights in the bathroom have been broken _forever_ and Rob keeps turning his nose up when I ask if he can get someone to fix it.” He snorts. “Like he owns the place or something.” 

“Isn’t he the landlord?” Kim asks breezily, motioning for him to hold out his arms so she can remove his jacket, which she hangs on the back of his chair. 

“Yes, and _not_ a very good one,” Jimmy agrees. “But still, I like living here.” 

“I’m sure you do,” she says, going along with his rambling. She gives him a quick glance over, and something catches her eye again. She makes her decision, figuring that he won’t remember in the morning anyway. 

“Okay, one thing before I go.” She walks towards the desk in the corner of the room, marveling at the fact that Jimmy is so different from his brother in every way. Chuck McGill would never tolerate this level of clutter. Her throat unexpectedly knots up at the idea of having a sibling, someone with a shared upbringing, someone who understands. 

She picks out a pair of scissors, with blades beginning to rust at the edges, and returns to Jimmy’s side. 

He gives her a heavy-lidded gaze that conveys curiosity nonetheless. She brings the scissors up to his temple and carefully snips off the tuft of hair that drapes over his ear. And just like that, everything looks neat and even again. “Your haircut techniques need a bit of work, Jimmy,” she says as she puts the scissors back onto the desk. 

Jimmy puts a hand over his heart and grumbles, “I’m deeply offended by that.” It’s the simplest sentence he had offered all night, and it brings a smile to her face. 

“Alright, get some rest.” 

She turns to leave, but Jimmy lurches up and grabs her wrist before she makes it to the door. “Wait, Kim! I almost forgot!” His voice is lit up with distress. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Okay, Jimmy, what do you want to tell me?” she says, trying to soothe him. He visibly relaxes, and slumps back onto the bed. But he doesn’t let go of her, so she ends up leaning awkwardly towards him, wondering what the most tactful way of extracting herself would be. 

“It’s just...I’ve never met anyone like you, Kim. And I know I might not be the best person ever, but I want to be _better_ because of you.” 

“Jimmy, I - ” 

He barrels on. “You always help me a lot, and you make living here fun. In Albuquerque.” He stumbles over the word and glances up at her as if confused. “Jesus, I said that so wrong. But you know what I mean, right?” His eyes are wide and desperate with unshed tears. 

Kim can feel the heat radiating from his skin, and she holds her breath as if that can stop the furious pounding of her heart. Her mind, hard-wired by now to connect pieces of evidence and make educated guesses as to the truth, leaps to an inference that’s big even by her standards. 

And even just a few weeks ago, Kim might have responded with “That’s flattering, Jimmy, but I’m not really looking for that right now”. But that was before he came to her with his proposal of nighttime study sessions, before she came to know the layers of him that went deeper than just _that cute goofball at the office I daydream about for absolutely no discernable reason whatsoever._

Her words come out with a slight tremor she’s not proud of. “Are you trying to ask me out, Jimmy?”

He gives a sigh of relief, and claps his hands together. “Oh good! Does that mean yes?” 

She feels herself moving infinitesimally slow, as if through honey, in a dream world where time skitters away from them and Jimmy doesn’t have a test looming before him, where she hasn’t handicapped herself with memories from bygone eras and can just live like a normal person in the goddamn present. 

“Come on, Kim, final offer!” Jimmy blubbers, even as she coaxes him to lie down so she can pull the covers up to his shoulders. 

_Come on, Kim!_ Hayley’s voice reaches her from the other side of the pond. _Don’t make me come get you!_ From a distance, the lilting melody of a meadowlark drifts toward her on the warm breeze. 

She lays a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you ask me again in the morning, Jimmy? We can talk about it then.” 

“Okay, I will, I wanna do things right - I’ll call you after your meeting with Howard, that’s what I’ll do,” he vows, and the look he gives her afterwards, clouded with hope and anxiety, is what compels her to stay a while longer. She strokes his arm a little absentmindedly, and then gets up to spend some time tidying up his desk, straightening out the pages filled with scribbled terms and court cases that she has only just realized are written in the same style of note-taking as hers. By the time she turns back to say goodbye, Jimmy has drifted off to sleep. 

She’d dated a few guys and girls in college - well, mostly girls, followed by that one guy who had called her _Kimberly_ in the same reverent tone that reminded her of summers spent lying outside, underneath the lingering dusk - memories always in the periphery of her vision, always slightly hazy as if viewed through water. But if she was being honest with herself, as she rarely was these days, none of those people had quite stuck the landing like Jimmy McGill. 

She shuts the lights off, and quietly closes the door behind her. 

Three hours later, after the thin orange streak of dawn begins to skim across the horizon, Kim returns to her apartment after a long drive through the streets of Albuquerque, analyzing every single detail and interaction that had transpired during the night. She sets her textbooks down on the kitchen table, sees that the clock in her living room reads 6:07 AM, and realizes that she might only get an hour or two of sleep before needing to rush back to HHM. She decides against it; she’s gotten by with less, after all. Too late she wonders if she should have made Jimmy set an alarm before leaving.

She takes a quick shower, dries her hair, and changes into a fresh suit. As she adjusts her earrings, it hits her for the first time how different it feels now to have things that belong to her and choices that are hers to make. 

And all the while, she thinks about how earnest Jimmy sounded when he announced that he wanted to go down this new path, to make something better of himself. 

Perhaps this time she might give this, whatever it is, a chance too. 

By the time she enters her bedroom, the sunlight is just beginning to trickle through the closed windowblinds, casting long streaks on the opposite wall. She opens them, and lets the room become flooded with the soft lavender light of dawn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though each chapter could be read as a stand-alone, the fic has an overall arc, especially when we get to the later chapters. This is also far from the last time we’ll be in Red Cloud! 
> 
> I know absolutely nothing about how law school works, so please forgive me for any mistakes there :')


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